Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Piero Schiavo Campo

I remained at Athos’ side, like a good man-servant. We went down the stairs together and moved towards the center of the floor, where most of the guests had assembled. Whenever a particularly successful female avatar traipsed before us, Athos-Silver would sweep her a gallant bow, or an extra-special gallant bow, depending on the technical quality of the simulation – and on other things, which I shan’t go into. All of a sudden the string quartet went quiet. The crowd parted to let pass an exquisitely elegant veiled dame. She wore a sort of floor-length azure night gown, drawn in at the waist with a pink ribbon. Her face was of an undefinable age, between thirty and forty. She smiled and glanced around. Amidst all those strange and sophisticated avatars, her simplicity was almost incongruous. Was that the queen of the party, the ineffable Alessandra Selmo Rossi? I hoped to find out in a few minutes. When she reached the dance floor the music resumed, as if to some invisible signal: evidently the beginning of the dance proper. The avatars on the dance floor started to move rhythmically. Depending on their personal mimicking ability, they interpreted the pieces in the most disparate manner: some were performing classical dance sequences, others convoluted twisting, and some appeared to be having convulsions. The veiled dame seemed more inclined to observe than to participate, as did my master, Athos. I sent him a message via our common chat cube.

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